#if she was my wife and wanted to murder someone i'd simply let her

[columboscreens]

thoughts on ransom for a dead man? i noticed no one really acknowledges it when discussing the pilots even though it came before murder by the book (i think), so isn't it considered a pilot too? or am i wrong and it was meant as a standalone?

ransom for a dead man did indeed precede murder by the book, as it was a second pilot ordered by NBC. prescription: murder was the actual pilot, but after finally snagging peter falk for a full first season, the network wanted to whet the popular appetite in preparation for the mystery wheel.

if you can believe it, falk was reluctant to sign on in the first place. he wanted time to do films, he'd enjoyed but gotten burned doing network serial television with trials of o'brien, and friends john cassavetes and elaine may tried to talk him out of doing it! "luckily", he'd been swindled out of a hefty sum of money by one of his managers, so the man needed a paycheck, and judging by the public reception to rx: murder, NBC was willing to hand him anything on a silver platter. and so columbo we got.

that said, this episode is actually one of my personal favorites. while rx: murder showed us a surprisingly fleshed-out character for just a pilot, this is the first episode where we get a fully mature columbo; the whole team now knew who the character was. characteristics were solidified all around: the (dyed brown, at falk's request) suit, the unseen wife, the lack of firearm, the raincoat (he wears one in the previous episode but it's a different garment), the shaggier hair, the fear of heights, the love of chili. the format, the banter, the gotcha. all of these were codified in episode two.

but the true star of this episode in my opinion is lady lawyer leslie williams, one of my all-time favorite columbo villains. lee grant portrays her pitch-perfectly, lending beauty, cunning, and intellectual gravitas to a character that commands all of the above.

i'd let her shoot me in my own living room. what? i didn't say anything

in this era especially, she is truly special in that she is written like a man. by that, i mean she is given the same treatment of multifaceted characterization and competence that a man would. she's not owed the lachrymose sympathy of the forgotten lady or given the erratic hysteria of the lady in waiting. she kills simply to get what she wants.

peter falk was sort of benevolently sexist in that he tended to push back against having too many female murderers on the show, especially those who were less than sympathetic. he didn't like portraying women as villains, and you'll notice that each season has on average only one female killer.

and sure, that sounds about par for the course for murder statistics, but women are flawed in interesting ways too, and i believe true equitable treatment in media includes showing that they, too, can be evil, greedy, and cold-blooded, without making them one-note. leslie williams embodies every hypercapable, calculating aspect of a culp or cassidy killer, but is also feminine and charming, with a certain softness, vulnerability, and calmness about her. she has no inclination towards children, but isn't cruel for cruelty's sake--it is only when her stepdaughter stands in the way of her plans that she incurs her wrath.

what i also like about this episode is that it's not her arrogance that leads to her downfall per se, it's her avarice and lack of empathy. naturally, nearly every columbo villain is filled with great amounts of arrogance; you kind of have to be to take someone's life like that in the first place, right? but though she initially considers him little more than rumpled window dressing, and though she taunts him when she's nearly gotten away with her crime, this esquire senses columbo's frightening intellect as soon as he begins engaging with her at length.

while partly for the audience's expository benefit, this insight does rattle columbo somewhat, and he's mildly taken aback at just how accurately she's pegged him. it solidifies his opinion of her outstanding ability, and, now on the back foot in this exchange, he immediately shifts gears in his approach. he now knows that he needs to get creative in the way columbo gets creative in order to arrest her. to me, it's one of the most interesting villain dynamics of the series.

uh......shit. listen ma'am do you wanna do a show on broadway together

so yeah, i highly enjoy this outing. it tickles the little girl in me who always loved seeing badass female characters, especially ones who didnt necessarily have to punch and kick their way through things. and because leslie williams' badassery lies in her strength, complexity, and intellect, i'll always have a soft spot for this episode.

their PALPABLE chemistry aside....

#i love you sociopath lady lawyer #columbo #ransom for a dead man #ask #text #longpost #lee grant

[artofdoubt]

#murder wife goals

#love quinn #you #youedit #tvedit #you netflix #victoria pedretti #gif #edits #if she was my wife and wanted to murder someone i'd simply let her #joe is an idiot #i'd do ANYTHING for her

[yanderes-galore]

No one requested for it this time but I can't just leave you hanging.

This has been in my drafts for months so I'm dusting it off and finishing it ^^

Also! I have decided Bride will have many different outcomes, idk how many yet but that's what this part is setting up. Please be patient and I hope this keeps you fed, lol. Please give feedback if you want. You've been waiting months for this.

Bride (Pt 3)

This Is Part 3, See Part 2 Here.

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Female Darling, Yandere behavior, Murderous thoughts, Foul language, Kidnapping, Sadism, Mentioned death.

There's crashing within the halls. Angry and desperate screams like that of a tantrum. Anybody in the halls would have froze.

The screams of an anguished man echoed. Furniture turned over in a futile attempt to find something of interest. Just when he thought he was happy....

"She's gone, My darling girl gone!" Gluskin cries. Perhaps she really was a whore. Maybe she needed to be corrected like the rest of them.

"They always leave. Deceitful whore!"

But, part of him decided to reconsider. He did see you friendly with another man before you two met. That could mean anything!

Perhaps that man was jealous and stole his wife to be. He wanted to go with that option as he didn't wish to think his angel would leave willingly. He guesses he'll find out once he finds her again.

Picking up the knife on the table, he knows what he must do. Interrogation. She needs no other man than him.

"I'll find you, my darling~"

....

...

..

.

As the Groom begins his new chase, you begin catching up with Waylon. It feels so nice to have company again. Company that doesn't try to forcefully wed you.

He's been so good to you. He's been comforting you about Miles and discussing plans for when you both get out of here. You liked that he was optimistic.

It was always when you get out of here. Not if.

"I have a wife and kids I'd love to see again, you could say they're my motivation." He muses. As much as you'd rather not think of 'husbands' and 'wives' right now, you smile.

"Well be sure to introduce them to me! Hopefully after this we could still be friends." You comment in a lighthearted tone.

"Well, after this experience, I'm sure you need someone to lean on. Especially after..." Waylon trails off, fidgeting with the camera in his hands.

"Yeah, I get it. But for now let's just focus on the task at hand. If we daydream too much we'll get distracted." You suggest, thoughts flashing back to Gluskin.

One wrong move and you'll be back in his arms. You have a feeling he won't be as nice next time.

"Would it be okay to ask why you're so distant? Did anything happen when you were... in that room?" Waylon sounded concerned. You appreciated his concern but were unsure if this was something okay to spill.

"Yes. I'll say that but I'd rather not elaborate." You say simply. Waylon for now accepts this as an answer, not wishing to push you. You both needed to stick together.

"Alright," He sighs, rubbing your back while you two walk. "I'll leave it be until after this mess."

"Thank you..." You sigh.

You appreciate each other's company in silence. Perhaps, you really will get out of this mess.

"So there's my darling...." You hear a voice seethe.

You hesitantly turn your head, Waylon desperately dragging you with him.

"Hello, my love." Gluskin hums, knife held firmly in his hand. "He stole you, didn't he?"

"This way! I promise I'm not leaving you alone again." Waylon calls, pulling you by your arm with him. That shocked you out of your temporary paralysis.

The chase was on once again. Except this time, you were finally not alone. You trusted Waylon.

You would get out of here.

"Dear, you're no whore, yes?" Gluskin calls in the hallway. You want to block him out.

"You want a family, someone to take care of you because you're lonely. I get it...." An exasperated sigh is then heard. "BUT YOU'LL NEVER GET THAT WITH HIM!"

"Don't listen to him, (Y/N). I'll get you out of here." Waylon reassures, making sure you run with him.

"He's a bastard. I can't let another man taint you, can I? Stop running!"

You're scared. They argue as they run and you're along to endure it. There's no going back, there was never a chance to go back.

Since you entered this asylum your way back was locked.

Curse Miles.

Curse Gluskin.

You'd die here one way or another.

Same went for Waylon, you knew it.

He had one fate, to die by the blade in the mad man's hand once he gets caught. If you were smart you could prolong it.

"Follow me, I think this way looks familiar. We need to lose him before we can plan." You say, shaking your fear off once you uncovered some newfound determination.

Waylon decides to agree and follows you. You gesture towards a blocked hallway with just enough space to slip through. Gluskin was far enough away for you two to slink away.

"This'll buy us some time." You say, sliding through before helping Waylon through.

Just as you walk away with Waylon, you hear Gluskin slam against the barricade.

"Fucking whore...." Gluskin scoffs, bloodshot eyes catching sight of you on the other side. He was desperate. There was several ways this could go but two came to mind.

You either had to kill him, or die to him.

This would be your choice.

"You foul woman... no... I can't think such things yet." He's losing his composure, you quickly look behind you to see if Waylon found a way.

"You're different. You won't leave me, I see it in those doe like eyes. You won't leave me alone.... We'll be beautiful, I'll correct my mistakes. Please, forgive me, this game is no longer fun."

You're speechless.

"Don't go with him. He's just jealous of what we have. Come, take my hand." You can see him gesture out his hand, you back off.

"Darling...."

You continue to back up.

"Please...."

"I found a way, come on!" Waylon grabs your hand, Gluskin noticing and slamming himself against the barricade.

"Bastard! Whore! I'll find you!"

When you run, you hear the Groom's cries become more distant, soon you and Waylon are able to catch a breather.

"Do you have any plans?" Waylon asks, you look down.

"I...have a few."

You weren't sure how successful you'd be, but you were willing to try anything.

#yandere outlast x reader #yandere outlast #yandere eddie gluskin

[platonic-prompts]

hey, im not trying to invalidate your experience in any way or accuse you of doing something wrong, but using terms like "psychopath" and "narcissist" to explain someone's [negative] behavior is overall really harmful. there's a whole movement centered around the idea of "narcissistic abuse" and/or "psychopathic abuse", which is overall founded on pseudo psychology and ableism, and many people with npd and/or aspd have spoken about how monumentally harmful it is. again, i'm not trying to invalidate you or anything like that, and im guessing you weren't intending to refer to the mental disorders in the first place (lots of people use that language without knowing of the conditions behind it, or believe that the terms are things that can be totally separated from the disorders), i just wanted to let you know in case you weren't aware of it. i can find some resources from people with aspd and/or npd talking about this if you'd like.

tl:dr: It is not ableist or pseudo-psych to call something narcasistic if it follows the patterns of it, my father was labelled a psychopath by a criminal psychologist. People with cluster-b disorders should be judged on actions, not a piece of paper

Mate, if I told you right now that my father tried to murder a man in front of my five year old sister, would you call it ableist to call the man a psychopath? What about if I said he thought about pushing a lady off a cliff? Or about the time he threatened to murder my grandma and my uncles when my mom was pregnant with me?

Also I really, really think you might want to look what ableist means. And also pseudo-psychology for that matter.

Ableism is discrimination against people based on disabilities and disorders. It's ableism to call a depressed person simply lazy and unwilling to put in the effort. It's not ableism to point out that people with certain personality disorders are more likely to be abusive.

Pseudo-psychology is along the lines of palmistry (palm reading) and the thing with feeling someone's head. Research papers are not pseudo-psych

Would you call it ableist if I were to say autistic people have higher rates of sensory issues? No, because its a statement backed up with science, just like the fact that Cluster-b personality types are more (key word here) likely to be abusive towards the people in their lives. And this isn't pseudo-psychology, its because Cluster-b disorders are literally characterized by behaviors that hurt other people. I could walk in with my empathy quotient of 4 and not get diagnosed with aspd because I'm not violent or overtly manipulative.

The issue here is you're assuming that I call everyone with bad traits a psychopath or a narcissist. My mother gaslights me and can be emotionally abusive, but she's neither of those things. Her fiance sat by as his son threatened to kill us, but I wouldn't say he's a psychopath. (I wouldn't even call his son one, he's a jackass to be sure, emotionally manipulative sure. But he's nowhere near the level of my dad)

Also the fun thing here is my dad was actually labelled as a psychopath by a criminal psychologist, so uh...yeah

As for the narcissism, devaluation is literally a common tactic in an abuser with npd, which is what my dad does when talking to me about my degree and then with his wife and with my siblings (not to mention the whole host of other things with that, such as the manipulation and need to be seen as the best person ever)

(also psychopathy isnt even a DSM-V diagnosis, its a personality diagnosis used in criminal psychology because people in that field don't like using aspd, because it basically applies to everyone they work with)

And as a general note: I'm not saying that if you have aspd or npd or bpd or hpd that you're automatically bad, it's our actions that we should be judged by not diagnoses. That being said, if I dated someone with npd and they were abusive, I'd be calling that narcassistic abuse because there is a pattern it falls into.

#not prompt #also both words do have meanings outside of the disorders #one basically means an unstable and violent person #the other means self concieted person you know like the myth #i can not spell narcisiss #say it with me: diagnoses dont make people bad #its their actions and they shouldnt be excused just because they can wave a piece of paper #the example ive seen is you wouldnt call someone ambulatory with assistance when they use a wheelchair

[wisewidow]

Hello, Your Parents Want Me To Have Your Babies

PAIRING: Natasha Romanoff x Reader

SUMMARY: Melina, my workplace’s neighbour, wants to set me up with her daughter.

I'd only ever hear about Natasha every couple of weeks, when her adoptive father, the mechanic that owned the garage workshop beside my father's cafe slash bar, met up with my uncle for beers one day last year. Ever since then, our families have been loosely intertwined, friendly but not too close. Alexei fixed my mom's wrecked car for a cheap price, in return I let his youngest daughter Yelena have free coffees whenever she pops over.

From what my father told me, Alexei's entire family, including his wife, were all involved in the family business of repairing cars, except for his eldest daughter: Natasha, who turned out to be an FBI agent living in Quantico. Dad says they're proud of her but they miss her.

"(Y/N)," my brother calls from the kitchen. I put down my phone and find him balancing three plates of sandwiches and a salad in his spindly arms.

He opens his mouth to explain the orders, but I cut him off.

"Alexei," I say, pointing to the bacon and egg sandwich. "A salad for Melina. The tuna and tomato roll is Yelena's. Did they want drinks?"

Peter nods. "Four coffees and a large bottle of water, they already have them."

I ruffle his hair to thank him and grab the plates, balancing the third on my forearm until I can place it on a tray. I carry it outside, years of waitressing practice keeping it balanced, and head towards the garage.

"Melina?" I call. Moments later the raven haired woman slips out of the office and smiles. She yells something in Russian that causes Yelena to slide out from under a silver BMW, covered in black grease. Alexei appears moments later wielding a spanner.

They hound me for their orders, gratefully patting my shoulder and carrying their food away to their separate stations. Yelena disappears into the shadows with her sandwich, and her father to his desk, but Melina simply brightens and says, "(Y/N), have you heard? Natalia is visiting."

"Yes!" Alexei yells around a mouthful of bread. "Family, reunion! Grandbabies!"

Melina hisses something in their mother tongue. I laugh, and then ask if Natasha was bringing her kids, though I wasn't aware she had any.

"He means nothing of it, Natalia is focused on work at the moment. Too focused, I think. No babies. No partner."

"Tell her about her penthouse!" Alexei encourages.

Melina flaps a hand at him in irritation. "Yes, well, she has broken up with Bruce, the shy scientist from work. And then Sharon, charming field operative, also from work. And now she refuses to date. Because of work."

I chuckle nervously. "Where are you going with this?"

Melina smiles innocently. "Nowhere. What happened to your last girlfriend, again? Your father mentioned something about . . ."  The look in her eyes is enough to egg me on, though the subject is one I rarely speak of these days.

Rubbing the back of my neck, I say, "Carol left to travel Europe."

"Shame," she nods sympathetically. "You don't seem bothered. Are you not looking for a relationship?"

"Not actively, but I'm sure another troublemaker will find me. I don't have a good track record of steady relationships," I admit.

"Neither does Natalia!" Alexei shouts.

"Oh!" I say. "Does she want Carol's number? Or my friend Harley, she's not looking for commitment."

Yelena snickers. Alexei frowns. Melina chuckles. "No, no, Natalia needs someone she doesn't work with, and you need someone serious, and we need grandbabies before we die, since Yelena neglects it."

I flush a bright red. "Grandb— I'm— okay, first of all, neither of us have the equipment for that—"

"Neither did Dad," Yelena pipes up, referring to the fact that she and her sister were adopted.

"Hey!"

"(Y/N)!" Peter calls, rounding the corner. "Ned's coming over to pick me up, we need to finish our physics project. Uncle Ben should be here soon, can you manage the bar until he gets here?"

I jump onto the excuse and yell back affirmation, say a quick goodbye to Melina before speed-walking back to the cafe.

Peter leaves with Ned soon after, and Ben arrives at around the same time. I move to the kitchens while he takes over serving our regulars, as he's friendlier with them than me.

I work on making more sandwiches and tapas meals until four, when my shift ends. I kiss Uncle Ben on the cheek and head home.

The smell of paprikash greets me as I unlock the door to my apartment, which I guess means that my roommate is home. I call out a hello to her and head to the shower.

I groan happily as the hot water rains down on my front. I close my eyes and lean my head back, thinking over how strange the day had been, and lose myself in a trance of relaxation.

"(Y/N/N)!" Wanda barges in. I jump and almost slip grabbing the shower curtain to cover my body as I peek out at her.

"I'm naked," I hiss.

She ignores me and holds up two clothes hangers. "Pantsuit or dress?"

I push my wet hair out of my face. "Uh, are you bar-hopping with Vision or going to a family dinner?"

"Get together with some friends," she explains. "Vis, Sam, Steve and some guy named Bucky who I'm informed we're supposed to be pretending Steve isn't in love with, do you know him?"

"Nope."

"Okay, well, he's bringing some friends, so I'm bringing you. Don't make that face, you know almost everyone."

"I don't feel like getting drunk," I complain.

"Good! You can be the designated driver. Pantsuit or dress?"

Grumbling, I tell her, "Dress."

"Okay, thanks, you wear the pantsuit, be ready by seven. May the Force be with you!"

She ducks as I throw my shampoo bottle at her. We bicker and mock and tease as I pat myself dry and she changes into the scarlet dress.  While she braids her hair, I carefully slip into the navy and white striped pantsuit, and we move into her bedroom to make use of her vanity, since the sun's lowering position in the sky shone straight into the window while my room would be encased in dimness by now. I sit in the chair and she leans over me, brushing her eyelashes with delicate mascara.  We fall into our normal going-out-getting-ready rhythm, periodically handing each other different brushes, comparing lipstick shades, and commenting on our days. She tells me about her brother's latest shenanigans and I make the grave mistake of commenting on Melina's attempted set-up earlier today, much to Wanda's entertainment. The two had never met but they both shared the pure ecstasy that came with matchmaking involving me.

"Do you think she's pretty?" Wanda wonders.

"I've seen photos," I shrug. "She's a redhead. Yelena says she changes hairstyles often."

"That doesn't answer my question! Pretty redhead or no?"

"They were baby photos, Wanda! I didn't have an opinion on her looks past the Wonder Woman pajamas."

She hums, and turns to draw a small heart under my left eye with her gel liner pen. "It would be nice if you wound up with her, but if you do fall madly in love with her beautiful red locks and decide to move to Washington to marry her and have her babies, I will murder you. You pay your rent on time and you're fun and please, please do not make me move back in with my brother."

"Why does everyone keep bringing up babies?" I yell.

An hour later we're pulling up to the bar in the back of  a cab arguing about getting a cat. The debate of whose bathroom would host the litter tray is interrupted by Wanda spotting Vision through the window and quickly smacking my arm and hissing at me to hurry up and pay so she can sneak in and scare him. Unfortunately, I can't locate my purse inside my bag.

"(Y/N), (Y/N), go, go, go . . ."

"Wanda, Wanda, going, going, going . . . Aha!" I pay the driver and find myself being ushered inside before I can put my purse back in my bag.

Sam, a friend of Wanda's from college, ends up foiling her evil master plan by pointing her out as soon as she walks in the door. Vision, being a good sport, pretends to be startled when she yells "BOO!" in his ear. As she cackles manically before sliding into the chair beside him, I notice the only free space is by the pretty blonde woman beside a man with brown hair pulled into a bun.

"Oh, look who I dragged out with me!" Wanda exclaims, taking a sip of Vision's drink and making a grand gesture with her hands. "(Y/N)!"

I'm greeted with a chorus of hello's. I bow and grin as I sit by the woman and offer a polite smile. Steve leans over points to the brunet man. "This is Bucky, we were close as friends. As kids. We were close as friends, when we were kids."

Sam snorts into his beer.

Steve clears his throat awkwardly. "And this is his partner from work, Nat."

I get a closer inspection and my eyes widen in shock. "Natalia?"

"Her name is Natasha." Steve corrects.

"I thought her name was Natalie?" Vision frowns.

"She goes by Nat, who cares?" Sam shrugs.

"Natalia Alianovna Romanova?" Wanda yelps. "(Y/N)! You didn't tell me this was the Natalia!"

"The what? I— Do I know you two?" Natasha asks, bewildered.

"Not me!" Wanda says, and then makes a motion for zipping her lips shut.

Everyone turns to me. I chuckle nervously. "I should probably explain. Hi, I'm (Y/N), your parents want me to have your babies."

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x y/n #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff oneshot #natasha romanoff fluff

[stiltonbasket]

i know ur prob super busy w/ tmaaf and renouncement verse and appreciate and thank you very much for them- i was just wondering if you were planning to actually write a thing on that snip you wrote where qin su soul-sacrificed to wwx and mxy ended up getting jin zixuan? iver been super caught up on how i'd imagine that going ^^"

I might, someday! I already have a fic up on ao3 where that happens (the one where jingyi is nielan's cultivation baby and nmj lives, leading to nhs never figuring out that jgy is Bad News) and Qin Su!wwx and Mo Xuanyu!jzx both appear in the epilogue. Wangxian + JZX’s trip across the country looking for evidence happens in the background of this AU, but the nielan + baby jingyi is the main focus! Here’s a little snippet I had in my drafts, though~ <^-^>

__

“So what did Mo Xuanyu’s letter say?”

“He said to look for a courtesan about my mother’s age with a scarred face,” Jin Zixuan says dutifully, brushing his messy hair away from his eyes. “Apparently, she had something to do with my father’s death, but Mo Xuanyu didn’t seem to know what it was.”

“I don’t see how a courtesan and my husband could have been responsible for your old man dying,” Wei Wuxian mutters. Next to him, Lan Zhan bristles and stares down at his plate of carrot jiaozi as if they’d offended him somehow--and then he picks up Bichen and starts towards the door, though Wei Wuxian can’t imagine where he thinks he’s going.

“Come back,” he orders, fighting back a laugh as Lan Zhan turns around with the alcohol blush burning high in his cheeks before sitting back down on the bed. “It’s almost hai hour, Lan Zhan. Go get ready for bed.”

“I am going to kill Jin Guangyao,” Lan Zhan says simply, and Wei Wuxian utters a silent prayer of thanks that his friend won’t remember any of this in the morning. “Very...I’ll kill him slowly.”

“Let’s hope we don’t have to kill him,” Jin Zixuan counters. “I mean, Wei Wuxian said he raised A-Ling, and I don’t want A-Ling to have to deal with mourning him and Qin Su at the same time. Life imprisonment will do well enough--maybe we’ll give him to Jiang-zongzhu, and then A-Ling can even go and visit him sometimes.”

Wei Wuxian lifts an eyebrow at him.

“You’re taking the fact that he arranged your murder awfully well, you know.”

Jin Zixuan gives an uneasy shrug. “I mean, he wasn’t there at Qiongqi Dao,” he offers. “I don’t know who played that second flute, but it couldn’t have been him. And I don’t want the first thing I do as Jin Ling’s father to be killing someone who helped bring him up, even if he did assassinate me.”

“He must die,” insists Lan Zhan. Both of them turn around to stare at him. “As soon as possible.”

“...Why?”

“Wei Ying will not be safe until he dies. And you--you called him husband.”

Wei Wuxian blinks. “I did live as his wife for almost eight months,” he says lamely, because that was how long it had taken for him to arrange matters so that Jin Guangyao would think he was visiting Qin Cangye while Qin Cangye thought that he--or Qin Su, rather--was attending a ladies’ purification retreat in Pingzhou Cheng. “I had to get into the habit, Lan Zhan. I’d have been killed if anyone found out I wasn’t her.”

It says a great deal about his first life that sleeping beside Jin Guangyao every night for the better part of a year wasn’t the strangest thing he’s done. Wei Wuxian says as much to Lan Zhan, and then springs back in astonishment as his friend stalks over to the table and smashes the gold hairpin Lianfang-zun gave him before he left the Jinlintai.

“Uh, it’s time for bed!” Wei Wuxian squeaks, dragging Lan Zhan back to his mattress. The room they’re in has two beds, and no one thought to assign sleeping places before Lan Zhan got drunk; but Lan Zhan likes his privacy, and he won’t want to sleep near Wei Wuxian when he’s in a woman’s body, so Wei Wuxian stuffs Lan Zhan under the covers of the smaller bed and then gets into the double with Jin Zixuan.

Unfortunately, Lan Zhan seems to like that even less.

“Do not sleep with him!” he hisses, the second Wei Wuxian lies down. “Wei Ying! Come here!”

“Why?” Wei Wuxian asks, confused. “If you’re worried about propriety, he’s this body’s brother, so it really doesn’t--”

“Just go,” Jin Zixuan pleads, burying his face in his hands. “Or let me take the other bed, so Hanguang-jun can sleep here.”

In the end, Wei Wuxian ends up lying on his back in the middle of the double bed with Lan Zhan’s arms around his waist and his head pillowed on his bosom, while he contemplates all the horrible life decisions that led him to this moment.

“Hey,” he hears Jin Zixuan whisper, a couple of minutes after midnight. “How are you doing over there?”

“I hate you so much,” Wei Wuxian hisses back. “This is all your fault.”

#asks #wangxian #the untamed #jin zixuan #mo dao zu shi #my fic #fic preview #qin su!wwx

[lvnatiq]

Surrealtà | Nicky Valentino x Assassin!OC

A/N: Hello, my fellow Valentinhoes! I already mentioned this series that will be approximately 10 chapters long (if not more). I tried to keep the prologue short trying my best to not bore you. The dialogues between the characters are modified according to this story and yes, there will be a lot of new characters alongside the original ones. With that being said if you have any questions or suggestions, let me know :)! 

Enjoy, toots.

Warnings: Violence, mentions of death, usage of inappropriate language.

Prologue: Inferno

“Do you ever doubt your actions? I mean, you know the uproar about them being ethically wrong.”

Andrea's words revealed her agitated behavior. Her sincere concern for her friend was boggling her mind with more questions.

“Why would I doubt my actions when there are enough people already doing that.”

Heaven lifted her glass to her lips and stopped moments before taking a sip.

“I never give people anything more or less than what they’ve done.”

The sour taste of alcohol lingers on her tongue while it makes its way into her system causing her body to warm up.

“If they kill, I kill. Easy as that.”

“You know what’s going to happen when they get you behind bars, right ?” said Andrea. Fully aware of the fact that her attempts at getting her to tap out were not affecting Heaven at all.

“I don’t."

Heaven said as she turned her head towards the anxious eyes that were studying her. Her smirk becomes more prominent as she sets her booze down on the glass table.

“Because It’s not going to happen."

Upon hearing her words Andrea couldn't manage to hide her astonishment.

“How can you be so sure ?”

“I’m not but do I have any other options? I am not someone that you would want to see panicking.”

Heaven said as she continued to play with the rim of her glass. She proceeded as she eyed her reflection on the glass table.

“I might appear dangerous when I let my anger take over, but panic?” she scoffed as she pushed her long locks away from her face.

“I wouldn’t wish that on my worst enemy.”

“Why?” Andrea said, engaging herself with the conversation more and more. Afterall there were no limits to her curiosity.

“I lose control.”

Says Heaven as she collects the documents scattered over the table and then stands up from her stool. She lowers herself at Andrea's eye level as she proceeds with her speech.

“...and If I lose control, my love...”

Andrea drops her gaze as she couldn't bring herself to look straight into her eyes. Heaven whispers her last words, unaware of the fact that this statement will be the foreshadowing of what was about to come.

“All hell will break loose.”

With that, the curiosity killed the cat.

January 1st, 2020

The cold breeze of New York combed her long locks as she stared at her watch. Her pupils dilating as her eyes followed the second hand, continuing to count the seconds.

"Thirty more to go. Then it's time for the Fiesta."

Pushing back the hem of her coat, she pulled out a brand new Glock 19 and a suppressor. Her hands started to wander around the gun as she let the feeling of absolute power captivate her senses. After rolling the silencer onto the muzzle of the Glock, she placed her gun back at its previous position.

The silencer, her infamous nickname.

Nobody knew her true identity nor her background. At this point in her life, others weren't the only ones to do so. Her memory was as unreliable as her trigger. Her past, present, and future remained unknown to her. In her opinion, keeping her past locked in the forbidden spaces of her mind it's for the better.

"Henry Harding, age 46, a prick who traded the life of his wife for the comfort of his stacks."

She reminded herself as her steps quickened. The darkness of the night emerged as the light of the day shuttered under its vigor. Her breathing became apparent, evaporating in front of her eyes.

"His right hand, Richard Kindell, a coward who sold his soul to the same devil that killed his son. Porca miseria! What type of leverage does that son of a bitch has over Richard that keeps him loyal no matter the cause?"

She cursed under her breath as she took a sharp turn. Upon seeing the large crowd in front of the theatre she decided to examine the atmosphere surrounding her. Women in elegant dresses were accompanied by men in suits. Their sweet conversations concerning their excitement about the movie, pervading the air with love. Utterly oblivious of the fact that they were soon to be bystanders of a tragic ending.

"Tragic but a well-deserved ending."

Her plan was too simple for her liking. She made Richard get the same gun that she had attached to her thigh, two weeks before she sent the suspicious mail to Henry. The mail that contained information exclusively known by the two of them regarding Richard's son's death. She was simply using their trust issues as an advantage.

"25 meters till the warfare."

As she moves closer, the ticket booth becomes more visible and her eyes meet the man of the moment, Murray.

"Smile, Heaven. You don't want to disappoint your audience."

She said as she put her killer smile on, turning heads as she walked by. Her charming nature and her mysterious aura always captured people's attention. Even so, she couldn't care less.

Her hair flowing in harmony with the wind, her steps overflowed with confidence, and her eyes gleamed with the fact that she could finally put an end to what the judiciary system defined as a dilemma. It's time for Maria's long-awaited vendetta.

"Hello, Murphy. How's the night treating you?"

Murphy gave her a heartwarming smile, accompanied by sincere laughter.

"So far so good. What about you my dear?"

"Lovely, I'd say. New York has its charm, you know."

She said as her hand reached her pocket, searching for the ticket.

"Seems so."

Murray said as his eyes carefully scanned Heaven's. Sensing his unusual behavior, Heaven glued her eyes back onto his as she took a step further.

"How do you figure?"

She asked as she gave him a smirk. A smirk that often got people's breath hitch, hands sweat and their heartbeats accelerated.

"Your eyes."

Said Murray letting his body language do the favors, he pointed at her eyes.

"They tell a lot."

He said as he positioned himself back behind the booth. Murray was a part of her plan even though he didn't know much about it. She didn't lie to him but she also didn't tell him things that were none of his business. Such as her soon to be attempted murder.

"I suppose."

She said as she lifted her wrist casually to check the time.

"Aces. Perfect timing."

She dipped her hand back again into the pocket of her coat. Unable to feel any sort of texture regarding the existence of the ticket, she slid her other hand into her other pocket.

"Nothing."

"Your ticket, my dear?"

Without disrupting her composure, she thought of a quick backup plan.

"I need him to participate, I lost my ticket. How is this even possible?"

She thought as she closed her eyes shut. Letting out a deep breath, she opened her eyes only to reveal her teary vision. She strongly held on the cuffs of her coat making her knuckles turn white as she lowered her gaze to the floor. Even the most successful artist would be envious of her skilled performance.

"Murray, my ticket is missing."

Murray studied her reaction as he gave her an apologetic smile.

"I'm sorry my dear. I don't think that we have any other tickets left for the night."

Upon hearing his words she raised her gaze to meet his, giving him a look that will scar him for the rest of his life.

"Murray, You know that I can't miss this. Tonight was my main reason for coming to New York. I'm desperate for your help."

She said slowly pushing her coat back to display the outline of the gun beneath her dress. Her innocent demeanor was falsified by her reveal. Murray gave her an empty look, seemingly unaffected by her threat. He stopped for a second before turning to her with a smile.

"I got you, Heaven."

He said as he reached under the desk revealing a golden ticket. He slowly extended his hand as hers followed. Then, he retracted it. Unaware of the dangerous game he was playing with Heaven's patience.

"One last thing, Heaven."

He indicated to her to come closer as he leaned in. Not wanting to waste any more of her precious time Heaven obliged.

"It's time for you to prioritize yourself. For the sake of your good."

He said as he gave her the ticket and pushed the gate open for her.

"Have fun, my dear."

Heaven, unimpressed by his discourse, stepped inside. Hearing the gate close behind her. The heavy smell of tobacco dominated the large area blinded by the lights of the enormous chandelier and golden decorations that reminded her of the Palace of Versailles. A palace that was full of people with extravagant attires laughing and cheering, adorning their social interactions with excessive reactions. Baffled by the unanticipated environment Heaven took a few steps back, letting her back hit the wall.

The wall, located exactly where the gate should be. As her confusion gets the best of her, at her right she notices a man reading a newspaper. She walks close enough to see the contents of the front page. Only to realize that the front page was listing absurdly familiar names of the several presidents. Names that surely belonged to the 20'ies. Heaven gently closed her eyes then she leaned her forehead against the palm of her hand.

"Where the hell am I?" she muttered as her own words, followed by her deep voice, echoed inside of her head. She gave one last glance at the velvet wall where the entrance gate should've been.

"Abandon hope, all ye who enter here."

Vocabulary: 

Second hand: the hand on some watches and clocks that moves quickly, showing the seconds.

Fiesta: an event marked by festivities or celebration.

Porca miseria: in this case used as “Bloody hell”.

Vendetta: a blood feud in which the family of a murdered person seeks vengeance on the murderer or the murderer's family.

"Abandon hope, all ye who enter here.": A message warning one about a hopeless situation from which there is no return. The Italian version of this phrase appears in Dante's Divine Comedy as the inscription on the entrance to Hell. The phrase is most often used humorously.

#nicky valentino #two against the world #fictif #nix hydra

[bowieemeddow]

TRINITY. (Queen Fanfiction)

Part 1 // Runaway.

Summary: Margaret McCullugh comes to the realisation that her life is a total mess. After an argument she realises she’s had enough; she grabs her bags and runs away.

Note:Hi guys this is the first chapter of my new fanfiction. I’m not the best writer and this is my first time so please go easy on me; there will be grammar and spelling mistakes throughout this chapter. Feedback will be greatly appreciated 🙂

Warnings; Swearing, sexual assault, bad writing, slight Scottish slang (I’m from Scotland and I write the way I talk sorry 😉✌🏻)

Enjoy.

Thursday // May 1970

"I've never wanted to punch him in the face more in my life than at this point of time." I thought to myself as I glared at him across the dining table. Even from what felt like a mile away; I could still see that smug look on his Greg's face.

"Margret! Are you even listening to me?" I tore my focus from my bastard of a step father to my bastard of a mother. "You'll be meeting Thomas next thursday remember. To talk about arrangements."

Ah Thomas Russel. Son to a millionaire family; him being a successful doctor in the making at 22 and is apparently a distant relative of some foreign royal family (to be fair I wasn't listening to the shit leaving my mothers mouth)

The cherry on top of it all; I've never actually met the boy and I'm his fiancé.

"Poor Thomas." Gina; my younger sister mumbled under her breath while eating her dinner.

"Mind your own business you little shit!" I spat kicking her harshly under the table. Believe me I know this makes me look bad but I promise you I'm not a bad sister; I was actually excited when I found out I had another sibling on the way. I loved her even when she was a newborn. It was when she started talking; she turned into a sneaky little bully and mummy's favourite.

"That's enough don't you dare kick your sister again!" She snapped at me.

I cringed at my mothers comment; more because of the way she said it. Trying to act as posh as possible; trying to mask the natural Glaswegian accent she's had her whole life; the same thick apparently "rough" accent I also have yet Gina never developed it as bad as me, my dad had the rough accent and I was a daddy’s girl... before he left us.

"Why do I have to marry him. I didn't him pick him, hell I haven't even met him! Marrying me off to becoming nothing but a trophy wife? Fully dependable on my husband with a big empty house full of loads of children. Nothing to do except cooking and cleaning-"

"Can we please change the topic?! I don't feel like sending you upstairs again." My mum sighed

"Oh mother!" Gina exclaimed making me jump; her bloody voice goes right through me.

"This dinner is absolutely amazing!" I chuckled to myself quietly, Gina is so far up mums arse it's embarrassing.

"Thank you darling I made it myself."

Yeah right did she make this shit, she doesn't even know how to use the stove, it was the cook that made it. All of it is vegan since "meat is the reason why your acne is so bad and you've starting to lose that figure Margaret, you simply don't take proper care of yourself."

“Oh god I forgot! I was meant to take you bra shopping today.” Mum informed Gina

“But she’s only 13 mum. I never got my first bra till I was 15?” I argued, Gina got everything she wanted without having to even lift a finger.

“You should go with them Margaret. You wear too small a bra better go up a size sweets." He smirked away as he took a drink of his wine that's likely more expensive than everything I own.

At that point I was so pissed off I grabbed the closest thing to me which was a potato from my plate funnily enough and threw it at his head. If I wasn’t so pissed off I think would’ve found it difficult to keep a straight face.

Friday// May 1970

While sitting in period 7 English I thought back to last night.

After successfully hitting Greg's big head with a potato for his inappropriate comment about his step daughter's breasts; Mum took his side and got sent upstairs without eating anything for the rest of the night; not like I wanted to eat any of that shit anyway.

"God he's so cute!" The girl next to me squealed to her friends who were both in front of her; their chairs turned from their tables to form a circle that I was sadly apart of. I wasn friends with the three girls; Tracey, Yasmine and Gemma were the popular girls, the best housewives in the making.

I looked down at the newspaper which Tracey had in her hands, it was crumpled up due to her "fan girl" moment taking over her senses.

"The Gregory Special." The newspaper was called;

Only rich wankers read it.

"Thomas Russel is ready to settle down but who's the lucky girl?"

It said with a picture of the boy himself below it . Wasn't his best picture; he was probably flirting with some random girl in while the photo was being taken.

"So who is the bitch huh?" Gemma spat as Tracey read away at the newspaper trying to figure it out.

"YOU! Mrs Reynolds wants to see you in her office.” My English teacher shouted pointing at me it made the three girls jump back to their original spots as if they were actually listening to the lesson.

Shit what have I done now; I usually lose track at this point.

While putting my things in my bag I looked over at the three girls to see them scanning back through the newspaper frantically to find out who the "lucky woman" was.

I accidentally let out a chuckle of sympathy which caught their attention.

“I’m sorry, is there something you want to say?” Jemma snapped.

"Yeah I do actually since you three can't read for shit. Page 24." I sassed back and waited a moment.

"Margaret McCullugh? Who the bloody hell is that?!" I rolled my eyes at the stupidness.

"Margaret McCullugh. Now." My teacher shouted across the classroom which I nodded to standing up and grabbing my bag and coat with a grin on my face.

The three girls had their mouths wide open once they put two and two together; it was me.

"Bye girls." I whispered chuckling while leaving the classroom.

...

"Please tell me you are joking Miss McCullugh?" Mrs Reynolds pleaded with me

"What's wrong with what I want to do once I leave here?" I argued back.

"Your mother is a politician; she could bloody well be the prime minister in a several years time. How is she gonna get there with her child wanting to do.... textile design?" She gagged at the though of me becoming something that wasn't a doctor or lawyer.

"Why does it fucking matter anyway I can't even do what I want. My mums already set up my whole life." I argued back slouching in my seat with my arms crossed over my chest.

Fuck being ladylike.

"Ah your talking about your engagement with Thomas Russel. Your mother wants you to just be okay, she's worked hard for where she is right now and it was a risky thing she done to get there. She doesn't want you taking any risks when you go onto be a politician or a lawyer-"

"Or a textile design artist." I corrected for her not giving in to her manipulation.

"Margaret I know you okay. Through these past 6 years that you've been in this school you've been very strong willed and feministic attitude to social issues and topics."

"Damn right-"

"But I'm sorry to burst your bubble but this is a patriarchal society we are living in. Woman will not change society. Ever."

I was beyond pissed at this moment of time. I shot up off my seat and slammed down both my hands on her desk in order to shut her up.

"Fucking watch me then!”

...

Saturday // May // 1970

"Hey chickadee." Tana smiled as she came into one of the private rooms of the pub, she lifted my feet and plopped herself next to me in the booth then put my feet back down to they were resting on her lap.

"Hi." I said stretching slightly as I shut my notebook over immediately and set it down on the table.

Tana was probably one of my only friends at this point of time; the moment she turned 19 she was allowed to decorate her parents bar; to which she called me up and asked to borrow my creative mind for help. Before it was just an old looking bar where young ones likes to hang out; now it was a modern neon, rock music bar.

"Glam Rock" it was called and it was placed in a more poverty ridden area of Glasgow. If my mum found out I was here I'd get murdered.

Every Saturday night people from everywhere would come here and celebrate a new "generation" as they called it.

"This new rock generation is gonna grow everywhere. Where men dress like women and women dress like men. Completely and utterly flamboyant!" I remember Tana saying to me when I first came across this bar; it was a Saturday morning and she was getting ready for a party. I was here because I was trying to find the record shop since they sell limited editions for half off.

"We just need someone to spread Glam Rock to every corner of the world."

"HELLO EARTH TO MARGARET!" She shouted snapping her fingers in front of me.

"Huh?" I said snapping back to reality.

"I said were you writing something?" She said pointing to my notebook, I didn't answer yet again because I was too busy admiring what she was wearing.

"For fuck sake! Have you took something?" She laughed trying to get my attention again.

"Sorry, sorry just had a long day. Thinking about what kind of punishment I'll get this time once I make my way home." I chuckled

"Anyways what did you say again?"

"Writing songs... oh and you've also got your camera."

"When am I not writing songs or taking photos Tana?" I said sitting up to grab my vodka and lemonade and down it.

"That's very true. So, let's see what photos you took." She said as she pulled off her slip on heels so she could fold them in a basket.

I put down the two photos I took on the table.

"Have you got a pen." I asked her as she admired the photos.

"Umm.. yeah I think somewhere in they drawers." She said turning her head to the left to show me where it was.

"This bar does look fucking amazing, you have to admit it."

"It's because I decorated it Tana. I hate to toot my own horn here but I'm fucking brilliant at decorating." I laughed as I took one of the photos and wrote the location and date behind it; then done the same with the other.

"You're good at everything you do it does my head in." Tana complained with a groan as she ran her fingers through her black long curly hair.

"I'm not."

"You are. You can paint, you create these amazing clothes, you can play the piano like no one else. You're an amazing singer..." my smile dropped as I grabbed both the photos from Tana's grip and stuck them in my bra for safekeeping before sticking the the pen back in the drawer; the room was so silent you could hear a pin drop, or more like you could here me slamming the drawer shut.

"Maggie-"

"I'm not a singer." I said interrupting her.

"Correction, your mum says your not a singer. But frankly love, you're  the best singer I've ever heard. You should join a band."

"That'll never happen."

....

Sunday // May 1970

Walking up the driveway of my massive house barefoot with my heels in my hand, my make up and hair a mess I knew I was in for it.

I accidentally fell asleep at Tana's last night and now it's 8am in the morning.

I walked in the house and shut the door behind me.

"MARGARET BEATRIX MCCULLUGH!" I heard my mum screech as the sound of her heels became louder and louder.

"God don't say my middle name." I cringed with my face scrunched up; a massive migraine was starting to take its toll on me.

"Where were you?" She shrieked once again; I'm starting to see stars with how bad my freaking headache is. It's way to bright in this house.

"I'm sorry I fell asleep at Tana's I should've called you it's my mistake I won't let it happen again."

One thing to know about me; when I'm in the wrong I apologise.

One thing to know about my mum; she throws my apology right back in my face and calls me immature.

"TANAS!" She started to trail behind me as I clumsily made my way up the stairs to my bedroom door. Once I reached the door I got an overwhelming feeling that I was about to vomit so I stopped for a moment to calm myself down.

I leaned my forehead against the cool marble that the whole house was made from to cool myself down.

"WHAT HAVE I TOLD YOU! NO GOING TO ROCK GLAM, NO DRINKING, NO KISSING RANDOM GIRLS OR BOYS."

She caught a glimpse at my notebook; purple velvet and green floral exterior. She knew exactly what it was and snatched it from my hand.

"Hey!-"

"AND NO MAKING SONGS. NO SINGING SONGS I TOLD YOU NOT TO SING OR WRITE THEY DIRTY LYRICS."

I snatched the book from her and held it right to my chest. This book was my lyrics, my ideas, my thoughts, feeling. My whole life.

"ITS CALLED ROCK MUM! Get with the times, it's the Beatles that are popular now, not fucking hymns." I snapped as I walked into my room. Before I got the chance to shut the door over she was already invading my space.

"I don't give a shit what it's called. Stop it okay! That part of your life is over. It's time to grow up and face reality. You are engaged-"

"I'm not marrying him you can fuck right off." I looked at her through my full length mirror as she walked up to me. Her expensive heels clicking against my flooring as she walked closer to me.

"You're an ungrateful human being you know that. I found you a man; a millionaire who can take care of you for life you won't have to work a day in your life-"

"Yeah that's what I'll do, I'll go right ahead and marry a man I don't marry so that I'll birth all his kids and be his perfect dumb trophy wife for life. You worked hard to get where you are, why can't I work hard in something I wane you do. I don't need a man to do that." I said smothered in sarcasm making my mother roll her eyes.

"You and your bloody pride. Here's the real world Margaret; a woman's purpose main purpose in life is to get married and as the bible preached, have children. You'll never be anything different." She spat.

"You're going to the Russel's household on Thursday morning  for you to plan the wedding with your fiancé with a big bloody smile on your face you hear me?"

I chuckled softly as I walked up so our faces our almost touching; her Chanel No.5 tickling my nose.

"I'd love to see you try." I spat in her face. I suddenly gasped as her hand connected with my cheek forcing my face to the side as my cheek started to warm up almost instantly.

"I hate you, you're not my daughter you know! I should've aborted you when I had the chance you know that! If it killed me oh well, as long AS YOU WHERE NEVER BORN." She screamed in my face, she turned to leave my room to meet Greg leaning against the door frame.

"Are you okay Darling?" Greg asked my mum; his voice all sweet and soft making my scoff and roll my eyes.

She ignored him and left in anger.

"Would you get the fuck out of my room?!" I asked, his head snapped from watching my mum as she made her way down the landing and down the stairs to me.

"Seems you need to be put in your place a bit huh?" He asked as he walked up to me, so close to my face I could feel his breath hit my skin.

"I don't see the bad thing about being a trophy wife Sweets? You'd be a damn good one anyway."He chuckled as he looked at me up and down licking his lips. His hands were resting on my arse ready to give it a spank. A sudden spur of anger and confidence caused me to push him back.

"Touch me again and I swear I'll rip your tongue out."

"You don't have the guts." He simply said before leaving the room.

He's right I didn't have the guts, I didn't have the guts to go to the police and ruins my mother's career that she worked so hard for when it got out to the media that her husband is a child molester.

So Ive kept my mouth shut for years.

I feel hot years fill my eyes, I take a long deep breath in an attempt to calm myself down while looking up at the ceiling to try and stop the crying; I didn't want to give him the satisfaction.

That's when I found myself packing a suitcase, grabbing my passport, some money I had. A couple of outfits to keep me going two or three weeks.

I grabbed my notebook, my Polaroid camera and my box full of Polaroid's and squashed it all into one massive suitcase.

I had to leave the rest so I could move quickly.

___

An hour later my family left to go out for lunch without me. I sat at the window and watched them leave.

I watched them get smaller smaller until eventually I couldn't seem them at all.

I would never see them again.

I grabbed my suitcase, grabbed the keys to my mums car and fucked off out of there with the intention of never returning again.

_____

I just had to put Harry Styles in there somewhere.

Sorry not sorry 🤪😩

#ben hardy #joe mazzello imagine #queen blurb #queen headcannon #queen imagines #queen fanfiction #roger taylor imagine #roger taylor #brian may #john deacon #bohemian rhapsody #borhap fanfic

[grumpycatrae]

Years Go By (2019! Richie Tozier x Bowers! Reader)

2017

The night they all got the call from Mike they had all felt that familiar dread loom over them. The thought of what had happened 27 years ago made some of them sick. They didn't want to relive it, the trauma, it was too much.

Richie Tozier however, found himself sitting just outside the hotel he would be staying at until the childhood fear was gone for good. He ran a hand through his dark curls, he would need a shower as soon as he settled in. He exited the car and grabbed his suitcase, knowing he had some time before he met up with the others at the chinese resturaunt.

Richie entered the small hotel, hearing the light 'ding' of the bell. The woman at the desk looked up from her book and gave a wide smile.

"Why hello there! How may I help you today?" She asked him, standing to her feet. Richie walked up to the desk and set down his suitcase.

"Hey uh, I'm here to hopefully to get a room for.. maybe a night or two? I'm not entirely sure how long." He stated. The woman nodded and grabbed the sign in book.

"Alright, sir. And your name?"

"Richie Tozier."

The woman looked up for a moment before weiting down his name and closing the book. Richie seemed a bit off ever since he received the call, not that anyone could blame him if they had seen what he had been through. Sure, he was a successful comedian but even a goofy smile wouldn't cover up the uneasy fear in his eyes.

"Alright, I'll be putting you in Room 237. I can show you to your room, if you'd like?" The woman turned and grabbed the key from the wall, turning back to meet Richie's eyes. The man nodded, seemingly not wanting to talk much. He just wanted to be in the room alone for a bit.

"Yes, I think that'd be nice.." He said, grabbing his suitcase. The woman nodded and walked from behind the desk. She gestured him to follow her as she walked to the stairs, walking just a few feet in front of him. As she walked up the stairs, Richie kept his eyes on the floor beneath him rather then looking up to accidently see up her shirt.

"You're a long ways home, Mr. Tozier. What's the occasion?" She asked him, grabbing his attention. Richie gave a light chuckle. He was positive that no one in Derry watched tv much, they were always stuck in the past. It surprised him to know that someone knew where he was from.

"Oh, just a reunion, ya know? Old friends wanting to get together, I couldn't turn them down."

"Oh? I thought you were going on tour soon?" The woman stopped at the top of the stairs and waited from him to catch up with her. Richie shrugged.

"I guess you could say that these friends are more important.. they're the best friends I ever had." Richie looked to meet the women's eyes.

"Even leaving the wife at home?" She asked. Richie gave a nervous chuckle, shaking his head.

"Oh, no.. I'm not married.." He assured, showing that he had no wedding band. The woman smirked.

"Well isn't that a treat?" She continued walking down the hall until she reached a room. She paused when she noticed that the door was open and the room service cart was sitting just outside the door. Richie was at first confused till he heard the woman give an annoyed sigh. "I apologize, do you mind waiting out here for a moment?" She turned to the comedian, a forced smile on her lips. Richie shook his head.

"Not at all.." With that the woman entered the room, leaving the door opened further than before. Richie stood by the door, leaning in and sneaking a peek to what was going on. He saw the woman at the desk walk up to a woman in a pastel uniformed dress, with an apron tied around her waist. Ah yes, house keeping. It seemed to appear that she was either running behind on the rooms or she was in the wrong room.

"(Y/N) Bowers.. I hope you won't be too much longer in here. There's a man outside waiting to use this room.." The woman that greeted Richie, her cheery voice suddenly blunt. Richie's brows furrowed. Did he hear that name right? Bowers. That name made Richie nervous. He knew that name. Until recently, (Y/N) had been slower than usual, lacking the enthusiasm she had once. Not that anyone would've liked her job, she cleaned after people and was ordered around. She was the hotel maid, what fun was that?

"Oh. I'm sorry, Holly. I'll just be a few minutes longer. All I need to do is change the sheets and wipe down the windows to the balcony. I shouldn't take too long if he doesn't mind waiting here.." The maid explained. Holly gave another sigh, rubbing her temples. (Y/N) didn't know why she was so uptight. Sure, she was running the hotel when the boss wasn't around but rarely anyone came to Derry and stayed the night. That wasn't the kind of place it was.

"This really is unacceptable. I'll just take him to a different room." Holly went to turn and walk out but stopped when she noticed Richie standing in the door way.

"I don't mind waiting.. honestly, I don't want to cause trouble and I'd rather settle in now than wait for a different room when she's almost done.." He said, giving Holly a smirk. Holly quickly covered the annoyed look with a smile, it was too forced.

"I have no problem giving you another room, Mr. Tozier. In fact, for this little.. incident, I'd be more than happy to give you the suite. You are a celebrity after all." (Y/N) looked up from what she was doing and met eyes with Richie. Tozier. Richie Tozier. "And you know what they say, 'Stars Never Pay'." Holly chuckled. He didn't understand why she was smothering herself up to him but it was getting uncomfortable quickly. Richie gave a nervous chuckle.

"Thank you but I think I'll just take this one. Plus I'll have a bit of company before I have to leave for dinner." Richie looked towards the maid who seemingly looked shocked he was talking about her. Holly looked back at the maid and pushed down the urge to protest. She simply nodded.

"Of course." She handed him the key. Her cheery facade dropping. "If you have any concerns or needs, feel free to contact the front desk. I'll be more than happy to help you." She gave a short smile before exiting the room, leaving the comedian and the maid alone.

"I promise I won't take too much time here, I'm just running behind scedule today.." (Y/N) said as she started changing the sheets to the bed, rolling the dirty ones up and laying them on the floor. Richie set his suit case on the vanity and leaned up against the wall.

"No, it's fine. I don't mind a bit.." He stated, watching her as she put fresh sheets on and tucked them in. "So.. Bowers.. You wouldn't happen to have been related to Henry Bowers." The comedian read the look on the maid's face. The name made her uneasy too.

"He was my older brother.." She stood up straight and the two kept their eyes on each other. "Were you.. one of the kids he hurt?" She asked, her fingers playing with her apron. Richie slightly shrugged and nodded.

"I mean.. yeah, I am.. he deffinantly tried to kill us a while back.." He rubbed the back of his neck as though he was embarrased. The subject was completely awkward. (Y/N) bit her lip as though looking for something to change the subject. There was nothing that would have fixed the awkward silence. "How has he been? Is he.. still with us?" Richie didn't want to flat out ask if the childhood bully that literally pulled the rope from the well, trapping them down there was dead or alive. Not that he would've cared if the son of a bitch was rotting six feet under but for the sake of his sister.. perhaps it wasn't rude to ask if the man was alive and doing well. (Y/N) nodded, grabbing the dirty sheets.

"Still at the institution.. after he killed those kids.. I think he'll live his remaining days in there.." She stated, walking towards the cart that stood outside. Richie nodded.

"Well that's good." He shook his head. "Not that he's, ya know, locked up forever but that.. well, I mean.. fuck, um.. well, he's alive.. so.. that's good.. for you, I mean. Cause he's.. your brother.." Richie fumbled his words, making the situation almost unbearable to watch. (Y/N) seemed to get what he meant and chuckled. "Gosh I'm making things really awkward for you.. it's just.. funny to see you again.."

"Funny?" The maid set the sheets in the cart and turned to Richie, a confused expression on her face.

"Not funny.. um, nice? I don't know.. it's been 27 years since we last saw each other.."

1989

(Y/N) stood on her front porch as the coroners wheeled her father out on a gurnee, wrapped up in a body bag. Her father didn't make a sound when he died at the hands of his oldest, Henry. He bled to death on his recliner while his ten year old daughter played with her imaginary friend; Bob Grey, upstairs. Butch didn't think too much of it. His daughter was upstairs, his son outside with his friends. He had a rough day and needed a nap. He didn't know he would wake up to a switch blade in his neck while his son stood above him, no words or even eye contact. It's like it wasn't even Henry.

The police soon found Henry. They arrested him when he tried coming back home to his younger sister, saying nonsense and doing all he could to reach for her. The police didn't let him get 5 feet from her before they took him down. Henry was screaming about the murders of the missing children and how he wasn't finished. He promised he would come back for his sister. He promised.

Not too far from the scene were the kids who belonged to the Loser's club. (Y/N) looked over to see them coming from the barrens. They were roughed up and she remembered the stuttering one was carrying a yellow rain coat that one of her classmates use to wear. She remembered his name being George, but everyone always called him Georgie. He had gone missing around 6 months ago. She kinda missed him in class. He was kind, not like the other rowdy boys in her grade. They shared recess often with each other. He was a friend.

(Y/N) made eye contact with the dark haird boy with the thick frames. Ah yes, the trash mouth. She use to hear about him from Henry often when his friends were over. Talking about how to broke his glasses after having them for a week or that he tripped him into the jewish geek during lunch. She never understood her brother's hatred for those kids. They were just kids. What was so damn special about them that he needed to hurt them so much?

"I wonder what's going to happen to her.." Stan said, his hands by his side. Richie shrugged, taking his eyes away from her.

"Foster home.." He was right. She had no other family that wanted to deal with an orphan, especially one that came from a domestic household.

"S-Surely s-s-she has o-other family that at-will tak-k-ke her.." Bill held the rain coat close to his chest as he watched paramedics approach the girl. Eddie shook his head.

"It's so fucked up..none of this should happen to her." He was angry about the situation. No one should have to go to foster care. Richie never had to experience it but he might as well have. Sure his parents were still around, but were they really?

"There's nothing that we can do for her.." Beverly looked down at the ground, she couldn't look. She was lucky to not go to foster care, that she would be living with her aunt soon. It didn't help knowing that Henry would face punishment for his crimes, but so would the young girl that had nothing to do with him. They didn't see her after that day.

2017

"It has been a while.. I barely remember much of that day.." (Y/N) walked over to the doors to the balcony, spray bottle and a rag in her hand. "The day I found my father in his recliner, a hole in his neck and blood seeping into the carpet.. " She prayed the door and began wiping the smudges of the glass." The day that child care came and took me to some random building and there I had to start a new life..going to a different house almost every year. New faces. New lives.. My life was shitty before but Christ.. I had family that loved me at least.." The maid gave a scoff as she finished the doors, turning to Richie with a pained look in her eyes. Richie stood in silence, returning the pained look. He understood it. The lack of any parental love. The absence of them and having to find some way to get by. He had felt her pain before.

(Y/N) realized that she had to ranting about her life to someone that was basically a complete stranger. Her brother bullied him for years, even tried to kill him and she's the one talking about a rough childhood. She lowered her head and started making a B line for the door.

"I'm all done in here, sir. Spare towels are in the cabinet below the sink. Have a good day." She was just about to leave when Richie started chasing after her.

"Now hang on a sec." He stood in front of her cart, his hands taking a hold of it, preventing her from going forward. She seemed shocked that he stopped her, and far more shocked that she was letting him. Richie found himself speechless, he had nothing planned to say after he stopped her. So here, they stood in another awkward silence. "I.. uh.."

"Yes..?"

"Okay so.. I didn't have anything planned after chasing you down but.. uh.. Why are you here..?" He asked, his brows furrowed. The maid seemed confused.

"Um, I work here..?"

"Yeah but why in Derry.. what the fuck made you want to come back here?" Richie shook his head, a bit frustrated with himself. (Y/N) gave him a sly look.

"What made you want to come back to Derry?" She asked, flipping the question. "I figure a famous comedian wouldn't want to come back to a town that barely exsists.."

"I have specifically different reasons.." He slight alifted his chin up as though to avoid really answering. She wouldn't believe it. The maid arched a brow.

"Exactly.." She pulled her cart from Richie, making him stumble. "Maybe I'll answer your question over coffee, um, tomorrow at 10?" She smirked, pushing her cart past Richie. The comedian was taken back at first but caught on quickly. He didn't see the Bowers sister much of a 'date' type of girl. But she clearly saw something in him and frankly, he was attracted to the thought of coffee with her.

"Tomorrow at 10 then.." He backed up into the door way and felt the corners of his lips turn upward. Was he really going to have coffee with Bowers? He watched the maid continue down the hall, the rolling of the wheels filling the empty silence.

Richie went back into his room and closed the door, shaking his head and taking a moment to take it in. Yeah, she just asked him on a date. There's a difference between having coffee.. and having coffee. Richie looked in the mirror and scoffed to himself.

The others weren't gonna believe him..

(Deffinantly will need a part two and maybe part three if this story really goes anywhere, we'll just have to see!)

#beep beep richie #richie tozier x reader #2019 richie tozier #itchapter2 #bill hader #eddie kaspbrak #henry bowers #pennywise #richie tozier #loser's club #beverly marsh #bill skarsgard #bill denbrough #georgie denbrough #stanly uris

[blainemoriarty]

Hi! I'd like to try rping with you but the rules/bio pages are incompatibke with either my phone or my my app. Would you be a dear and copy/paste them here so I can know if we are rp compatible please? Much appreciated! @cameron-allen

Of course!! Sorry about that–

** Also, if you have any other questions regarding either my rules or Blaine’s storyline, feel free to ask!

Rules

Just some basic stuff:

Blaine is gay. I will not ship him with women, or put him in any sexual/romantic situation with a woman (unless we discussed something otherwise). Don’t let that scare you off from plotting with me, though! I’m more than happy to roleplay with female muses, and even if they are in to him, that could make for an incredibly interesting plot. Blaine just won’t be attracted to them in return.

This is a semi-selective roleplay blog. I reserve the right to choose who I roleplay with and when I answer.

I’m open to roleplay with OCs or characters from different fandoms. This is a crossover account, after all, and Blaine is so out-of-character that he might as well be an OC himself.

I’m not very picky with who I ship Blaine with, when it comes to male characters. The relationships themselves can be as unhealthy and toxic as you please. Also, age-differences are irrelevant.

NSFW will be tagged. I’ll do my best to tag triggers, as well, but please let me know if I miss anything.

Blaine is a male prostitute. This should be a trigger warning in itself, I think.

Both the mun and muse are of legal age. I will roleplay with underage muns, but I would rather not roleplay smut with you if you are under eighteen. The reason for this should be clear enough.

I’m fine with doing threads in which our muses already know each other. I know how awkward it can be when you send an ask that’s replied to with “Who on earth are you?” That won’t happen here. Unless you wanted to.

The mun reserves her literacy for threads, for the most part. If we chat ooc (which would be awesome) be warned that I tend tO TALK TO U IN ALL CAPS LIKE THIS !!!

I tend to post a lot ooc, since this is my only platform to do so, and also may reblog stuff that isn’t particularly relevant to my muse. Please respect that. All of my ooc stuff will be tagged if it bothers you, and if I share anything that you find triggering or just don’t like, simply shoot me an ask and I’ll tag it for you so you can blacklist it. Easy-peasy.

I will automatically attempt to turn answered memes into threads, whether I’m the one who answered them or you are. Keep this in mind! If you don’t want something to be turned into a thread for whatever reason, don’t be afraid to let me know!

I don’t use small or formatted text in my replies, because that’s a lot of work (especially since I’m on mobile most of the time) and I think that the quality of the writing itself is much more important than how pretty it looks. So naturally, the same standards apply to my partners. Format your replies however you like, or don’t format them at all - I’m much more concerned about the content itself.

Icons are very rarely used on my part - mostly because I don’t have many and I’m on mobile most of the time. If you want to use icons, that’s fine - let me know when you send an ask. If you answer my ask using an icon, or tag me in a starter using an icon, then most of the time I will wait until I have access to a computer to reply. That means the time between my replies will be longer. Rarely, I might reply to an icon thread without an icon, in which case I will try to make up for it by writing oodles of text. This is either because I’ve been on mobile for a while and am anxious about making you wait, or have a lot of muse for that thread and want to reply already!

About

Name: Blaine Anderson

Age: 24

Place of Birth: Ohio, USA

Current Residence: London, U.K

Sexual Orientation: Gay

Occupation: Male prostitute

Family: Daniel Anderson (Father, deceased), Gabrielle Anderson (Mother, deceased), Cooper Anderson (brother, estranged)

And now…

   Daniel Anderson was the youngest of six children born into a wealthy Irish family, moved to the United States in his twenties to set up his own life and escape the suffocating atmosphere of his old household (while still making use of his share of his parent’s money, of course). He was a very devoted Catholic, and wrote mystery novels with his free time - they never did make it to publication. He came across as cold and unapproachable, caused both by his own, personal, emotional issues, and a deep, internalized idea of what a man should be that was far heavier than the weight of the Anderson family’s legacy. He married young, to the youngest daughter of another rich family, Amara Canton. They didn’t like each other at all, despite having a son together, and argued constantly until they finally divorced. Daniel met his second and last wife about a year later, and together they had another child.

  Gabrielle Mendoza was a third generation Filipino-Americam who had music running through her veins. She had the voice of an angel, and taught Blaine every instrument he knows how to play. She met Blaine’s father when she was twenty-seven and he was thirty-four; he’d recently divorced a woman whom he’d married solely for his family’s benefit and with whom he already had a five year old son, Cooper. Daniel fell in love with Gabrielle almost immediately. She was unconditionally kind and caring, even when Daniel seemed stiff and cold. She did what no other person had ever managed to do for him - she made him softer.

 They were married in little less than a year of meeting each other, and Blaine was born within another.

  Blaine was born on April 15th, 1992. His mother had always described him as ‘a tiny man with big dreams’ - tiny, meaning a five year old boy in a ridiculous bow-tie, dancing with his mom in the warm sitting room that served as their ballroom. Music was always something that he loved, and came as naturally to him as breathing. Of course, his father had certain opinions about his son’s passion, but Gabrielle would never let him rob Blaine of the one thing in the world that never failed to make him happy. (Besides, his father loved seeing him that way)

  Trouble came to Blaine in the form of his brother. Cooper didn’t like Blaine, and he despised Gabrielle. He even held a particular distaste toward their shared father, a remarkable amount of anger for a ten year old boy. The adults tried not to take it personally, and blamed it on grief - his mother had died, after all, not long after divorcing his father. It was understandable that he would be bitter over someone else’s happiness during such a dark part of his life. Blaine, however, couldn’t have understood that, and couldn’t help but think that he’d - at three years old - done something horribly wrong to ruin Cooper’s life.

 It wasn’t difficult to see why Blaine would believe such a thing. Cooper was mean - he was unjustly cruel and clever enough to disguise it. He bullied Blaine in secret for most of their young lives, knowing exactly how to manipulate his little brother into believing that it wasn’t really bullying, Cooper was just teaching him a lesson, Cooper was just making him a stronger person, Cooper was just punishing him for messing up that one dance move that he should’ve gotten right on the first try-

Blaine quickly began to hold resentment toward something that he’d once been passionate about. Nothing he did seemed to be right, or good enough, and the stressful need to be perfect trumped his enjoyment. Pleasure had turned into a source of distress - and it would stay that way for a long time.

 There was a short period of freedom when Cooper went off to college - if it could be called freedom. The derogatory thoughts about himself that had been drilled into him still haunted Blaine, but he could focus his perfectionism on other things, now. With Cooper out of the picture, at least, Blaine had some control over his own life.

  That all ended once Blaine turned fifteen and Cooper returned home. Blaine was at the peak of puberty and his body had a mind of it’s own. Cooper, being the kind of person that he was, took advantage of this. Blaine saw it as Cooper finally liking him - or, hopefully, loving him. For Blaine, the unhealthy charade between them was him finally being accepted and wanted by his big brother.

  For Cooper, it was the perfect way to hurt his little brother.

Their ‘relationship’ was a one-sided attraction laced with manipulation and abuse - both physical and emotional. Cooper hated Blaine; in his eyes, Blaine was symbolic of everything that had ever gone wrong in his life, and the perfect means-to-an-end of his lifelong, misguided quest for vengeance.

 Very simply, Cooper wanted to hurt Blaine. And that’s exactly what he did.

Blaine’s parents were both murdered a year after Blaine and Cooper’s relationship began. Cooper had left (he was always leaving for extended periods of time, during which Blaine’s mood usually took a turn for the worse. That was probably why) and the next time Blaine saw him, he was standing over their parents’ bodies. He didn’t know it was Cooper, of course. Not until much later on.

 After their deaths, Cooper left, and never contacted Blaine again.

 Blaine’s last year of high school was a blur. His family’s now-empty house was suffocating him. His country was suffocating him. He needed to get out, and college was his opportunity to do just that. Luckily, his stressful but successful high school career paid off, and he was accepted to a prestigious art school in London. He lasted there for less than two years before dropping out.

 Grief was a difficult thing to work with. Mixed with trauma of every shape and size, Blaine was barely able to function at all.

 How Moriarty became interested in him, Blaine would never figure out. At the time, he was just a whore. A resourceful whore, who knew how to get what he wanted, but anyone could

 Nonetheless, Blaine was contacted on his website (which he still refuses to discuss, because it contains some very old, very exposing photos of his barely nineteen-year old self) by the king of crime, looking for a whore.

 Foolishly, Blaine agreed to meet with him.

Surprisingly enough, Blaine wasn’t contacted just to be fucked - at least, not just by Moriarty. He proved himself to be a useful tool when it came to getting information out of people, without the mess that forcing it out of them would result in.

But why had he chosen Blaine? There were plenty of other sex workers throughout London, more talented and popular and charming than he was…

 Inevitably, Blaine stopped torturing himself over such things. Instead, he did something even worse to himself - he fell in love.

Jim Moriarty was, arguably, one of the most dangerous men in the world. Falling in love with him was probably the most idiotic thing Blaine had ever done. At the same time, what little seemingly-genuine affection that was given to him was also more than anything he’d ever experienced before. Perhaps it was all part of Moriarty’s ‘plan’, or maybe it was his own mistake (doubtfully), or maybe he the feelings he showed were genuine (even less likely), but whatever it was, it worked. Blaine was hooked.

Of course, that meant he was loyal to a fault. Especially since, alongside his romantic feelings, Blaine had quite a bit of fear. Once again, Moriarty was one of the most dangerous people in the world, and his violent outbursts made no exceptions for Blaine if he was irritated or not.

 Whatever there was between them, it was made very clear that Blaine was expendable.

 That was no surprise.

Aaaand also a crap ton of demon!Blaine stuff in case he interests you as well–

Incubi (Mun’s Interpretation):

Succubi and incubi are demons that feed off of orgasmic energy, created soley to please other demons, although it isn’t uncommon for them to feed off of humans as well. It’s rumored that the first succubae and incubi were fallen angels or nephilim, but only the more superstitious of the bunch (like Blaine) believe in this.

According to most sources, any succubus demon is also an incubus demon, and vice versa. Their title depends strictly on which gender they present as. An incubus demon would only “become” a succubus demon if they wanted to reproduce (which, thanks to handy demonologists like Sebastien Michaelis, I get to give you a ridiculously detailed step-by-step guide for.) In their succubus form, they would “collect” (ewugh) a human man’s sperm, and in their incubus form would “transfer” that sperm to a human female and impregnate her. Most sources agree with this, although a few mention that an incubus and succubus can also have a child together. Either way, the child produced is called a Cambion. There’s not much information on them, so let’s just say that they’re baby demons that later become either an inbcubus or succubus, determining their presenting gender once they’re of age and their “powers” appear.

Since incubi are also sometimes referred to as ‘fauns’, their demonic forms most likely have goat or deer aspects, such as horns or antlers, and equine legs. Rarely, they may also take the form of a ball of light (very similar to a will o’ the wisp). This only happens if an incubus desperately needs to burn off extra energy or needs to lure in new sources of it, and not all incubi know how to assume this form. Blaine doesn’t.

Sex demons feed off of the sexual energy of other people, but they don’t need to orgasm in order to feed. The process doesn’t harm other demons, but can harm humans, but this heavily depends on the demon that is feeding off of them. More powerful demons can feed off of humans in their dreams, but this is a rare talent.

An incubus’ body or form changes depending on how much energy they’ve consumed. As mentioned earlier, some can turn into a ball of light, but the body of every incubus and succubus has its temperature change. To put it simply, an excess of energy makes their body cold, while a lack of it makes their body warm, in order to be either alluring or repelling. If an incubus has too much or too little energy, their bodies can turn into dust, and they die. The obvious solution to a lack of energy is by feeding off of someone’s energy, but to cope with too much of it, most incubi will find another incubus or succubus to have sex with. Since they can’t produce energy on their own, feeding off of each others acquired energy evens everything out. This would suck if two of them wanted to be in a relationship, but their biological needs make monogamy nearly impossible, and none of them really have a desire for that kind of relationship. Often, outside of the harems kept by Hell’s royalty, incubi and succubae prefer polyamorous relationships instead.

Blaine:

Blaine presents primarily as an incubus, and rarely takes on his succubus form. He doesn’t really need or want to (he has no desire to reproduce, at all). He’s not the most powerful incubus, but he does have more status than some of the strongest, since he’s got two masters, one of which is the king of Hell (not necessarily Supernatural’s Crowley, but it can be) and another who is stronger than all of Hell’s heirarchy put together (my confusing au Jim Moriarty).

Blaine was born as a Cambion, the offspring of an unknown demon parent and his unknowing human mother, Gabrielle. He was raised as a boy because of mankind’s gender-binary thing (this is the case with a lot of Cambion children), and that stuck with him even after he discovered that he was a demon, when he turned eighteen and Moriarty sought after him. That was a long time ago, and he’s still very comfortable in his incubus form. In a way, he got lucky.

Despite his weakness as a demon, Blaine is still much stronger than any human, and smarter than most demons, which makes him an excellent spy. That’s the purpose he serves for Moriarty, who he considers his true master, and he’s unconditionally loyal. Blaine practically worships him, despite not being able to be intimate with him, since his power is so much that Blaine would turn into dust by even being too close to him during sex. As for Crowley, Blaine doesn’t mind him much, even if he feigns dislike towards him to please his true master; he’s not a terrible owner. A bit sadistic, unsurprisingly, but not terrible. (Or maybe Blaine is just very easily wooed)

#(( i put it under a cut because... its a lot of stuff #hope this isnt too overwhelming! )) #cameron-allen